Friday, October 22, 2010

Self at Forty-Six



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This picture is a lie.


But it gets at something about me, like all good lies should do.


*




Today I had the strangest visit from a guy I had not seen for twenty-six years. My old college roommate. He did some internet search for my house, then drove around my small town looking for people who knew me. Finding a cop in a small town takes, on average, about five minutes.

"Oh, he lives over there, behind the really tall hedge that runs across the whole property. Can you see all the skulls on pikes? That's him."


*



I love the guy, but I kept waiting for him to tell me he needed my kidney, or ten thousand dollars, or something.


You can't even get at how fucked up a human being I am.


There is not yet a language sufficient for it.



*



Last night I was mean and drunk.



I swear to god.



If I could take myself out back and kick my own ass, I would.



*


All of you gathered around the fire here, you should flee.


What is that Daniel Day Lewis said in his last movie?


Oh, yeah.



"There will be blood."




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do not mistake me for a kind man. do not mistake me for a buddha or a sweet presbyterian preacher.



i am a miscreant.



I am a bowl of snakes and barbed wire.



*


Sometimes my heart of battery acid and bile burns the beejesus out of people I mean no ill will toward.




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What good is this bliss-turned face? I am yet bad flawed and deadly in my meanness.


I would stand in a circle of fire and sweep my blade at all of you.


Weeping. Moaning with a godawful noise.


Mewling like the mortally injured, begging for the sweet release of death.


*



Well, I don't imagine right now I am fit for human companionship.



Which is how it is some times.


*



there are times I would snuff out the candle of the world.


*


*


But I am yet inclined toward goodness.

I yet love, with my bitter heart.


I forgive myself my sins as I forgive that motherfucker who yet rains down despair and misery upon the innocent and guilty alike.


*


We are all worthy and unworthy, just the same.


*



Namaste.



***

24 Comments:

Blogger Lydia said...

Whew! I was mewling myself toward the end of this post...but then I came to namaste and felt ever so much better.

This is a stark and totally captivating piece of writing. I wish the author well(ness).

6:51 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Lydia-


Thank you so much for your kind words.


I'm in a difficult place, but I don't want to lose sight of the goodness in the world.


Such as that you bring here.


yrs-


tearful

7:24 PM  
Blogger Radish King said...

It didn't surprise me to learn that your birthday was the day after my father's. You both share a mighty charisma a swift sword and an impossible capacity for love. I am glad to know you in all your incarnations.
love,
Rebecca The Gimp

7:37 PM  
Anonymous daisyfae said...

"But I am yet inclined toward goodness.

I yet love, with my bitter heart."

me too. happy birthday. nursemyra sent me... and she's usually not wrong.

8:16 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

Well, I will stand far out of your way when you are slashing. And when you're done, I'll be here to say, "So, how was that? You hungry?"

8:18 PM  
Blogger dottie kee bones said...

i know exactly what you're talking about.


and sorry i missed saying happy birthday on the right day.


(honestly, i think you're pretty damn good)

9:35 PM  
Blogger A said...

That's a very interesting portrait...

10:43 PM  
Blogger Elisabeth said...

I don't know, Dishwasher, but I suspect it's a heavy dose of trauma that has led you to where you are now and fueled this amazing capacity you have to tell it like it is.

Trauma can go the way of death and destruction. It can also go the way of beauty and yes, love, if you can only marshal it in some way, which you do here in your beautiful writing.

I thank you.

1:53 AM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

"I forgive myself my sins as I forgive that motherfucker who yet rains down despair and misery upon the innocent and guilty alike."

I like that.

6:18 AM  
Blogger Angella Lister said...

Scott,

You are a better man than you think. I don't know what happened last night, but today you can make it better than it was last night. if you choose to and it sounds like you choose to.

I won't flee. Even though you think I will.

Life is so fucking not simple. But I am here to stay, You tell the truth as it comes. You wrestle it to the ground. You get all up in its face. It's hard to read sometimes. But I bet it's even harder to stand square in what all that raw truth feels like.

And sometimes you shine like a saint. Don't worry. I don't mistake you for a saint. But you are a much better man and and more generous soul than you say.

So here we are. None of us saints.

Peace, friend.

7:36 AM  
Blogger Marylinn Kelly said...

We are all worthy and unworthy, just the same...it is a daily job, helping worthy have the upper hand, but in us all, it is what I believe to be true. Would a sweet presbyterian minister be so honest?

12:23 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

You guys.

Damn.



I am overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness you all share with me here.


Thank you, all of you.

7:25 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Radish-

There are many nearly invisible, steel-strong tendrils of universal somethingness that bind us together.

I'm glad of it, and thankful to you for...well, you know.

7:26 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

daisyfae-


welcome, and thanks. i hope you find something of value here. it's not always so gloomy.


yrs-


Scott

7:27 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ms. Moon-


It seems you have some experience with men.

I don't know if there could be a more perfect way to handle us.


yrs-


Scott

7:28 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Dottie Bones-

I think you're pretty damn good, too. Thanks for the birthday wish. I'm not a stickler for when well-wishes come, I like them always.

yrs-

me

7:29 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

A-

interesting. that's not bad, right?

7:29 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Elisabeth-

I get a lot of secondary "trauma" exposure in my work, but honestly, most of the trauma I feel is just from the way I keep being human and stupid all the time.

If only I were as perfect as I keep thinking I am.


Ha.


thanks for your comment, and for the company. you say the nicest things!

7:32 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Petit Fleur-

the rain falls on all of us, huh?


Thanks for sticking around, even when it's stupid here.

7:33 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Angela-

Thank you.


Sincerely.



I don't know what to say to all that, but I hear you. I'm humbled and grateful and glad to know you.


yrs-


Scott

7:34 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Marylinn-


I don't know, maybe a sweet presbyterian minister wouldn't be such a butt-head in the first place.

But I have my doubts.


Thank you. Thank you.


yrs-


Scott

7:35 AM  
Blogger Clay Blancett said...

The last person from my not-so distant past that showed up unannounced onto my porch almost got himself very much injured. I really don't like being snuck up on like that, it's fucking rude.

3:56 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

No shit, huh?


I don't know, I guess some people think that everyone is happy to see them.


Thanks for coming by, Clay.

8:01 PM  
Blogger Mel said...

Well, Ms. Moon sent me. Happy Birthday. I find your posts fascinating, to say the least. I've been ever so slowly catching up, filling in the holes. So far, your posts make perfect sense to me, but I live in the land of Catch 22 where knowing how crazy things are ensures you can't be all that crazy. Life is bitter and sweet, mostly.
And lord, that comment about the sweet Presbyterian minister? Damn. The sweet Presbyterian minister who married us was killed by a pair of teenaged crack heads at Christmas with his equally sweet and lovable wife, Clara, with an ax to the head. They even killed the cat. So, my perspective is pretty fucked up.
So I like your blog. Your picture concerned me until I figured out the perspective, and then I found it pretty cool.
Anyway, thanks for letting me lurk. It's comforting somehow, knowing you're out there.

9:42 AM  

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